


To Be Seen

by tac_winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon deal, FTM, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Spit As Lube, Transgender, trans reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:11:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8082610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tac_winchester/pseuds/tac_winchester
Summary: In a town with a case stolen by the Winchesters and a sleepless night, the reader comes to his last straws. An unlikely hero arrives accidentally, but changes the reader's life for the better and makes his dreams a reality.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a really happy fic nor is it beta'd. All mistakes are mine and I apologize for that.

Dealing with the regular, oblivious world was hard enough on a daily basis. But on Earth there are two worlds: one who knows reality and one who knows nothing. They live on the same plane, and only a hunter can see both sides of the equation. Typical people with apple pie lifestyles know nothing of the things which go bump in the night. To them, monsters hide in closets and under beds. To us, the monsters are everywhere but. They're the bartender, they're the cashier, or they're the politicians. Monsters are so used to blending in with the unaware world that they look like any human. Some are better at hiding than others.

  
I am one person of two worlds dealing with two sides of criticism. Being a transgender male is not easy as a hunter. Many hunters, the old grunts usually, disregard my abilities to take down the monsters of our world. They learn how I was born and think because of that I must be weak. You'd think for an individual who has seen everything under the sun they must be more accepting to diversity, but that's not always the case. It's bad enough having the religious fanatics of the other world telling me my existence is a sin, and the doctors telling me I'm not real. I've seen what most people believe is a myth, and I know what is real.

  
Due to the struggle of having to explain myself and make others believe me, I tend to stray away from other hunters. Working alone can be incredibly dangerous, but I am strong. I know I'm not the smartest for choosing this route. I can deal with the monsters — they're not too different from each other. Humans are what make me queasy. As humans, we've got the motive to cleanse the world of what's bad but aren't always sure which things are bad and which are not evil at all. No hunter is a saint, although at least I'm not a monster.

  
Everyone in the hunter world has heard of the Winchesters. You say the name in a roadhouse and it becomes a few decibels quieter. People begin to duck their heads and drink their beers a bit faster. If the Winchesters are around, you have to get out of town. Or so that's what people think. It is believed that the brothers are only full of drama, which may be true. Rumor has it they started the apocalypse, ended the apocalypse, let out the leviathans, and let out the darkness. On top of that, they've let the King of Hell live. I'm sure there's a reason for that since Heaven seems to be practically useless. Over the years, I've given them the benefit of the doubt. It's not like I know them personally.

  
Crossing paths with the Winchesters was an honest accident. With my strong avoidance towards other hunters, I tend to take the low key hunting cases that aren't all over the news where every other hunters can see them. This case was high key but in a small town, so I figured nobody would notice. I figured a lot of hunters were dead by now anyways. A hunter's lifespan isn't very long.

  
From inside of the police station, I heard the rumble of an old vehicle. The sheriff was explaining to me that it had to be a bear or something that attacked four people in the past week, but he didn't sound too sure of himself. I nodded, pretending to agree with everything he was saying. "And then some of the neighbors told me they heard an animal screeching, but I'm tellin' ya, partner, it couldn't have been no animal," the sheriff huffed.

  
"Alright sir, thank you for your time and let me know if you come to any conclusions," I said. I headed to the doors and stopped as I saw two men walking through them. Their suits said official, but they didn't look it. I veered away from them as they walked towards the sheriff's desk.

  
The shorter but still tall man started talking to the sheriff when the sheriff said, "Hold up, fellas. The Feds have already been here, so who are you?" The shorter one's mouth opened and then closed in confusion.

  
I stepped forward and cut into the conversation, "Uh, yes, sorry sheriff. My partners happened to be late. I will fill them in on what you told me, sir. Sorry to bother you again." I motioned for the "Feds" to follow me out, knowing just from their phony badges they weren't real. As I heard two sets of footsteps follow me, I knew they weren't kidding around.

  
Once we were outside of the police station, I turned to face the fake Federal agents. They both calculated my every move as if I were an enemy. "Excuse me, "feds", I've already taken this case. I can handle whatever this is on my own," I said.

  
The tallest man shifted his feet. "What do you think it is?" he asked.

  
I bit the inside of my cheek. "Look, I know you guys aren't real agents and neither am I, but believe me when I say I can handle this," I explained.

  
The shorter man shrugged and turned to his partner. "I guess we'll be on our way," he mumbled. The two men walked briskly back to their car which may have seen better days, or years for that matter. If we had met cordially, I might have asked them how she runs, but that was not the case. I nodded in approval of their car and made my way to my own, gas-money saving vehicle. My car may not be as pretty as theirs, but I save on gas and repairs.

  
My only explanation for the fake FBI agents was that they were hunters. I should have known to pick a less noticeable case on a national level, but any monster is an issue. Who these hunters were, I didn't know. It's not unusual to meet a pair of hunters since it's the safest way to go. Whoever they are, I'm not letting them interfere with this hunt.

  
Inside hotel rooms is the one place I get to relax. I can take the layers of having to conform to toxic masculinity off and be myself. As a transgender male, society has a standard -as with all men - that you must always present yourself as masculine. In a world where the majority has no clue about gender or gender expression, I have to live by what they know. There are people who understand who I am, who look at people with a blank slate and let them define themselves. Unfortunately, those are the minority in the discussion about gender identity. Personally, I am a man, but I am not defined by being buff and owning muscle cars. I don't need to be the tallest or the strongest to be a man.

  
I headed to the coffee maker and turned it on. After that, I made my way to the bedroom, stripping off the suit jacket I only used for playing a federal agent and revealing my narrow shoulders. Without the jacket and its squared shoulders, I went from looking like a 30-year-old man to a 13-year-old boy. Once I was down to my at-home loungewear, I could finally relax. At home, or in this case whichever hotel I'm staying at, there is nobody to put on a front for and I can do what I want.  
Later that night, I planned to stakeout the area where most of the victims were attacked. It was the cliche crime scene: a dark parking lot near the woods. My car jostled over the cracked and uneven pavement until I found a parking spot in the back underneath a broken streetlight. I gathered the necessary weapons for hunting a werewolf or any creature close to that. I knew I didn't have enough knowledge for this hunt, but my ego got ahead of me. If two hunters who couldn't bother to look like actual Feds get to it first, I'd probably be pissed. I didn't believe them when they implied that they'd leave it alone.  
With my arsenal attached to my belt and in my waistband, I followed the beam of my flashlight through the woods. After walking for a few yards, a well-worn trail began to appear. I veered to the left of the trail and indirectly followed it. The damp leaves lessened the sounds of my footsteps while the sticks amplified them. The flashlight made the leaves glisten and everything easier to follow. Even though the corpses were removed, the aura of death lingered in the air. If there was any way to tell what the hardest part of being a hunter, death would be at the top of the list. There's always that thought of "I should've known" even if there's no possible way you could know.

  
The echoes of footsteps advanced towards me and I redirected my flashlight. The steps seemed to stop once my light moved. I backed up into the trees as the footsteps resumed. "I thought we ganked them all," a man's voice grumbled. I clicked off my flashlight and pressed myself against the trunk of a tree. The footsteps stopped again but resumed at a faster pace. I sucked in a breath to keep myself as silent and unmoving as possible. My face clenched as I prepared for some sort of harm until the man's voice asked, "Agent?"

  
All of the air I'd been holding in my lungs was released in one breath. The two fake agents from before stood in front of me with their own flashlights. I cursed under my breath when they caught me in my anxious state. "I told you goons that I would handle it!" I barked.

  
"Look, we don't mean to offend you or anything, but aren't you a bit of a string bean to be in this line of work?" the short-tall man said.

  
"I may look short and slim, but I've always finished the job. You don't need to be a giant and hyper masculine to hunt," I hissed.

  
The quiet giant stepped forward to excuse his partner's insensitivity. "We're sorry for taking your case, but the job is done. I believe we got off on the wrong foot," he said. He gestured to himself, "I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean."

  
"Oh shit," I breathed. "I should've known it was you two. You seem to catch a whiff of everything in the continental U.S."

  
Dean huffed with a smile. "We'll be out of your hair by sunrise, kid," he said.

  
I turned with the Winchesters to walk back up the trail. "Oh, I don't live here. I just go from small town to small town finding evil," I replied. The dew on the grass by the parking lot sunk into my worn boots. The Winchesters' old Chevy was nowhere in sight, but I knew it couldn't be far. "Do you guys need any patching up? It's the least I can do."

  
"No, we've got it under control. Thank you, um-"

  
"(Y/N)."

  
"(Y/N), right," Sam said. I nodded and walked to my car to unlock it. The brothers made their way towards wherever their car was parked as I ducked into mine.

  
I wanted to be mad at them. I called this case and they didn't listen. At the same time, they got it done and got it done right before anyone else could be hurt. I just don't like being underestimated. It's something that has irked me throughout my life, even when I thought I was a girl. People decide that since you were at least born female you must be weak. Where society got the idea of women being weak, I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that women generally have more slim and compact bodies than those who are born as male with their broad shoulders and need to take up as much space as possible. After walking through the shoes of having to be seen as female and then finally becoming a male, I can tell you that suddenly "becoming" a man isn't easier. People still doubt me and see me as powerless since even though I'm a man, I'm still not broad or tall. Maybe that's partially why I was pissed at the Winchesters. They're the textbook definition of masculinity while I look practically prepubescent. Flat chest, small shoulders, five-foot-five, no facial hair, and a tenor voice versus them. It's no wonder why they thought I couldn't handle the job.

  
After pulling into the parking lot of the hotel haphazardly, I slammed my door shut. Sometimes thinking of the inequalities I face on the daily riled me up even if I couldn't change it. Testosterone injections every day only changed me so much. I don't want to fall into being the stereotypical macho male, but I'd rather look like one of them than how I look now. I'd like to have people just know I'm a man rather than guess until I open my mouth. The voice is almost down although still not as deep as I'd wish.

  
I'd probably feel more comfortable in the worlds I live in if I had voices other than my own advocating for me. In my lifetime, I don't believe I've met another transgender individual let alone another transgender hunter. I'm not proud of it, but I've begun to just hide my identity. I let everyone think I'm just a small man who has no factors but genetics to blame. If they knew my sex, then they'd both understand and be completely confused as to how to acknowledge my existence even if I'd written it on paper a thousand times. Having connections would make this process I'm going through on my own much easier, if only I knew who to make connections with.

  
Dysphoria doesn't always hit me this bad. Some days I'm more reminded of my struggles than others. I almost wish I was oblivious to the hunting world and only had one to deal with, but I didn't. Saving people gives me a purpose no matter what prejudging I have to go through. If I can't save them, then the worlds feel like they are on my shoulders.

  
The thought of not being able to gank that werewolf myself flared again. Like heartburn, the anger hung in my chest and made me want to regurgitate. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and checked the hotel room clock. It was almost midnight, which meant I could have an hour to research my next case and then sleep until six in the morning. Five hours of sleep would be plenty for however far I needed to drive.

  
For an hour, I searched on my laptop for a case even though I couldn't focus for a minute. The town names and case files became a blur in my stubborn mind. I continued to search for anything I could possibly find. At this point, even if it was just a dog bite I would consider checking it out. My map of the United States looked like a graph of nothingness as another hour past minute ticked on. That was okay; four hours of sleep could definitely be enough.

  
With each hour past midnight, every article became more of a blur than the last. My brain could hardly remember signs of different creatures let alone which state certain towns were in. I blinked twice, squeezing my eyes shut until I saw another galaxy behind my eyes. I stood from my seat, wobbling slightly from no sleep (five a.m. it's five a.m. I can sleep for an hour that will be fine), and clicked on the coffee pot for whenever I woke up. My fingers were numb and cold from typing all night and I loosely touched the coffee pot. It already was beginning to radiate heat, heat that I wanted to feel inside my heart and outside my body. The warmth started to singe my fingers and I yanked them back to cradle my hand. I swallowed around the cotton balls of my cheeks, pondering if I even had to sleep at all.

  
I'm stupid, I thought. Getting all worked up about things that happen every day. Something I shouldn't be complaining about since there's no logical way I can fix this mess which started from birth. Helpless and hopeless I was.

  
My thoughts were disturbed for a moment by the familiar rumbling of an old vehicle. The Winchesters. I listened as it sat stationary for a few seconds until a second door slammed shut with a metal clang. The car revved its engine, switching into another gear, and the sounds became more faint with each foot it drove away. The sound became held in one area again before tires screeched out of the parking lot. It was now 6:30. When had I gotten lost in my thoughts.

  
I curled up on the hotel bed, waiting for the coffee pot to fill. The dripping of the coffee eased my thoughts by giving me a distraction. I listened to the walls and the dull hum of a heater. People were beginning to wake up and I heard the thumping of footsteps above me. Furniture scraped across their threadbare carpet floors. Like my fingers, my mind became numb as I knew I would have to face another day of the same issues. I would have to deal with the flaws of society for another few hours just because the majority of society saw me as a flaw. To them, my existence was a blemish to humanity. These regular people had no clue of the worlds I lived in.

  
I buried my face in the borrowed pillow of the hotel bed as the coffee pot beeped. I no longer wished to have the coffee to wake me up. I should suffer, I thought. I don't deserve these worlds of bad and worse. I'm human and wish I could be treated as such even if I have to change myself to gain such care. For once, I'd like to be recognized in the hunting world as equally as a born-male hunter.

  
This hope inside of me is toxic. It keeps me going when everything is out of my control to be changed. I'm tired of this fight and how can I keep fighting when there is nothing to fight for.

  
Three knocks sounded at my hotel door. I stayed silent, unwilling to be acknowledged. A beat later, someone knocked on my door again. "Moose, I've got a bloody bone to pick with you!" an accented voice barked. I curled the hotel pillow over my ears as the knocking resumed. Whoever this was had to be quite mad, especially at this early hour. Not that I had gotten any sleep anyways. The knocking stopped and I heard a very near voice say, "I was going to be rational and allow you to open the bloody door but-" the man stopped mid sentence.

  
"I don't care what the fuck you are, just please go away," I grumbled.

  
"You look like you're in quite a dilemma," the creature said. I chucked the pillow which was covering my ears in the direction of the speaker. "No need to be a brute, lad."

  
I glanced up at the creature taking the form of a man around his late forties. A demon, presumably, since they seemed to litter the country like rats in a city. He wore all black from his tie to his sensible shoes. "Listen, there's no use beating a dead horse. Just leave me alone and find your Moose or whatever," I said.

  
"A dead horse, you say?" the creature repeated. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "You know, I'm not quite in a hurry to find Moose. I could help with your predicament."

  
"You want me to sell my soul," I stated. It wasn't a question for that's all demons in Hell care about. Sometimes I wondered if they treated souls like brokers treat money. If there was a neon sign counting how many souls they collected within the past twenty-four hours, I wouldn't be shocked. Souls are the gasoline of Hell.

  
The demon feigned surprise as he perched at the foot of the borrowed bed. "I suppose a deal could be made at a discount. I can give you the one thing you truly want and collect my pay in five years time," he said.

  
"So since I'm a hunter you want to take my soul sooner than any other human?" I clarified.

  
"You could put it that way. Saving the supernatural world one hunter at a time," the demon said with a smirk. I bit my tongue and averted my eyes away from the demon. My situation didn't give me much of a choice. I could live only five years in my most happiest state, or I could keep living the way I am now. If I keep going on as is, I'd be lucky to live another five years. The demon seemed to know that he was my only toxic hope now. "Do we have a deal?"

  
I looked the demon straight in the eyes and nodded. His eyes flicked to an opaque red. Somehow, this way it was easier to look him in the eye. Other humans gave me vulnerability since their mindset is much more complicated than a monster's. I could be strong around monsters because most of the time they'd be dead soon anyways. This crossroads demon reached out and touched my face and I felt the warmth through my skull. "Make me a man, please. I need to be a strong man so that others can see who I really am," I begged.

  
"I believe we have a deal. Just so you know who to bark at when you inevitably try to get out of this, the name's Crowley," the demon said.

  
"O-okay," I breathed. My heart rate sped up until I could feel it in the back of my throat. Crowley moved closer, looking to seal the deal. I leaned forward blindly without much experience in how to kiss a human let alone a demon. His lips weren't cold like I thought they'd be, and if he were human I'd wonder if he had a fever.

  
Immediately, my body began to change. The shirt I wore felt tighter as my shoulders expanded and my torso elongated. My spine cracked in three separate places. I threw my shirt off, not caring that I was bare-chested in front of the crossroads demon. The years of exercise that never showed how I wanted them to appeared before me as my muscles took their new form. What I could not ignore was the sudden lack of space in my pants as my legs snapped and stretched.

  
I didn't spare the demon who lingered a glance as I ripped off my pants, taking my underwear with them. I gasped as my cock sprung out into the cold air of the hotel room and curled against my stomach. It felt so right to have it there, but I had no idea how sensitive it would be. I reached down and held my penis while the growing in my body began to slow down.

  
The sound of Crowley's voice startled me from my trance. "It's wonderful, isn't it? Women have no idea why we happen to be so involved with our dicks because they don't know how great they feel," he purred. I couldn't agree more. The weight in my palm felt much better than a vagina ever had to me, but that could be just me. Even if my dick wasn't as large as it is, I wouldn't still rather have this over a uterus any day. I nodded to Crowley, panting as I fondled myself. I closed my eyes as my insides tightened around this ecstatic sensation.

  
A second hand wrapped around my cock, knocking my hand out of the way. I gasped and leaned forward to rest on my elbows and watch what Crowley was doing. "I suppose you don't mind someone with centuries of experience giving you a few," he paused to rub his thumb over the head of my cock, "tips." I groaned and threw my head back.

  
"Fuck," I breathed and became stunned by my own voice. The depth of my voice alone was enough to know that this was all real and not an intoxicated dream. I choked back a sob and clenched my teeth. Crowley's thumb rubbed over the tip of my cock again, and I wanted to scream with pleasure.

  
Crowley pulled away and stared at me hungrily. "If you think that's great, wait til you feel the real deal," he grunted. My body ached as it settled into my new form but all I could focus on was this demon's hands on my body. I cried out and clutched the duvet of the hotel bed. "Most men don't even know that they've got other parts to please," Crowley began. His hand snaked beneath my thighs and hoisted them off the bed. My elbows gave out from under me and I fell back onto the bed. Crowley sucked his fingers into his mouth before searching below my balls.

  
"Wha-what are you doing?" I breathed. The demon moved out of my sight, and I felt him move my legs apart even more.

  
"They're too afraid of their masculinity being crushed to consider what could be going on inside of them," Crowley ignored me and continued with his odd speech. His moist fingers prodded at my ass to divot into my hole. My hips canted upwards in surprise as I bit my lip. A single thick finger entered me to the first knuckle. Crowley took his finger out and spat at my hole to add more slick. Slowly, two fingers breached my entrance. Even though they were just fingers, I felt full and slightly uncomfortable. He spread his fingers and pushed them in deeper. "There's just this one spot you have to find, and your partner is mad with lust," he added. Crowley's fingers curled inside of me until they brushed against a sensitive area.

  
I gasped and arched my back off the bed. "A-again! Please just - do whatever you just did," I pleaded. Crowley's free hand gripped my cock as he rubbed inside of me again. I grit my teeth as my stomach coiled with pleasure. He stroked my cock as I moaned into the cold air. Everything below my waist seemed to tighten in a way I didn't know how to let go. Crowley brushed his fingers over that spot inside of me, and I saw stars. I groaned as the vice in my lower regions unclenched and my orgasm came. I panted as reality became more clear and Crowley retreated. "Thank you," I babbled.

  
Crowley took a black handkerchief from his suit jacket and wiped his hands. I then noticed a stream of white going across his cheek when he wiped it off. I glanced at my chest and saw the cum on my abdomen. My face flushed red while I glanced at my spent cock. Crowley smirked down at me, tucking his soiled handkerchief back into his pocket. "The pleasure was mine," he said. I sat up and suddenly felt self conscious in my naked state. Crowley ignored any bashfulness I may have shown and continued to make himself look less like he'd gotten someone off. "If you need another lesson in manhood, I'm sure you can find a way to summon me."

  
He receded towards the hotel door to make a proper exit when he paused. "See you in five years, nonetheless."

**Author's Note:**

> I might possibly add to this reader's life via a series, but I'm not sure yet. Don't hold me to it. If anyone wants to add to this themselves, feel free and please show me!
> 
> Tumblr: tac-winchester.tumblr.com


End file.
